


The Cruiseliner Gets Random

by china_shop



Category: Canadian Actor RPF, due South
Genre: Crack, Fic, Ghosts, Llamas, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-03
Updated: 2005-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Or?" says Smithbauer, who's been real quiet ever since he said Gordon--no, wait, since he said Sergeant Fraser was dead. Callum appreciates him holding his tongue, actually, because Callum's head is bursting at the seams, and if one more weird thing happens, he might just explode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cruiseliner Gets Random

Callum's heading for the TV lounge on the B Deck when he sees Paul loitering by the laundry with a tall broad-shouldered guy with short hair. The tall guy is well within Paul's personal space from what Callum can see, which doesn't bother Callum at all. Hell, it's about time Paul stopped chasing Callum and moved on to someone else. It's been years since they did what they did, and Callum moved on without looking back (well, mostly). But Paul's been acting friggin' weird ever since he turned up on this crazy ship, and even though Callum knows it's just that Paul likes playing stupid mind-games, it's nothing more than that, it's a relief to see someone else is around to distract him.

Callum doesn't need that kind of complication. Especially not when Hugh's acting all stupidly competitive, stealing Draco away from Paul.

But now there's this guy -- okay, not _that_ much taller than Callum, but _built_ \-- and clearly he and Paul've got something going on there, so maybe it's finally safe for Cal to let the barriers down a little. Make some overtures of friendship, he thinks, ironically.

"Hey, Paul," he says, going up to them. "Who's your friend?"

Paul turns quickly, and his face goes pink. "Ah, Ray," he says, and shit, he's still pulling that stupid Mountie act. "Ray, this is Mark Smithbauer. Mark, this is--"

"Kowalski," finishes Smithbauer, raising his chin and meeting Callum's gaze with a challenge. "I've heard a lot about you, eh." From his tone of voice, it sounds like most of it wasn't complimentary.

Callum stands up straighter, and sticks his own chin out. "Have I stepped onto the set of Fantasy Island, or are you as fucked in the head as Paul here?" he says, before he can think better of it.

Smithbauer's fist connects with his jaw before he even sees it coming. "Yeow!" he gasps. "Fuck!"

"Mark," says Paul, sounding shocked. Callum doesn't buy that for a second. This whole thing is a set-up.

"You know what?" he says, rubbing his jaw (which really fucking hurts). "Forget it. I thought we could be friends, but you're crazier than a box of macadamia nuts. Just stay away from me, you and your scary friends."

"I'm terribly sorry, Ray. There appears to be some kind of misunderstanding." Paul looks at his feet. "I must admit, I'm--" He breaks off, distracted by a loud explosion from the starboard side. "Oh dear."

Suddenly he's yanking a door open and shoving Callum and Smithbauer through it, slamming it shut behind them.

"What the--?" says Callum.

"Ben, what you think you're doing?" yells Smithbauer, rattling the doorhandle. It's locked.

"Hello, son," says another voice. There's the sound of a match striking, and a light flares in the darkness, revealing an old guy in Mountie uniform. It's Gordon Pinsent.

"Sergeant Fraser!" gasps Smithbauer. "I thought you were dead."

Pinsent winks. "Very perceptive of you, very perceptive indeed."

"Oh jeez," groans Callum. "This is Candid Camera, right? Is this some stupid practical joke Paul's playing on me? How many people are in on this?" He wishes Hugh would break down the door and take him away to dinner. Or to their cabin... He's too old for this shit.

"At the moment, there's just the three of us," says Gordon. "Having trouble with your eyesight, son? Carrot juice is the answer. One glass, morning and night." The match goes out. A second later there's another scraping sound, and this time, Gordon lights a kerosene lamp, and Callum looks around, and oh shit. Oh _shit_! They're in a wood cabin. It's familiar, it's ringing bells, but he can't think why. There's an RCMP insignia on the wall, and a big oak desk. Outside the windows it's dark.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" he demands.

And then, out of _nowhere_ , Pinsent pulls out a couple of old-fashioned looking pistols and waves them at him and Smithbauer. Callum yelps, and jumps behind Smithbauer -- no point both of them getting shot, and if it's going to be one of them, it sure as hell isn't going to be Callum.

Smithbauer steps aside, leaving Callum without cover. Callum straightens his shoulders and decides to take control of the situation. "Give me those," he says, firmly, holding out both hands. The corner of Gordon's mouth twists up into a smile, and he hands over one of the pistols. He gives the other to Smithbauer.

Smithbauer and Callum exchange glances. "What's going on?" And Callum trains his pistol at Gordon, since he's the craziest out of all of them.

Unfortunately, Gordon's holding a ginormous fucking rifle, and aiming it right at Callum. "You have two choices," he says gravely. "Either you can duel to the death over my son's honour--"

"You're shitting me." Callum peers closely at the gun in his hand. It looks real. It _feels_ real.

"Or?" says Smithbauer, who's been real quiet ever since he said Gordon--no, wait, since he said _Sergeant Fraser_ was dead. Callum appreciates him holding his tongue, actually, because Callum's head is bursting at the seams, and if one more weird thing happens, he might just explode.

"Or you can engage in--in--" Gordon coughs self-consciously and averts his eyes (but the rifle barrel doesn't waver).

"In?" says Callum, bewilderedly.

There's a long pause. Gordon blushes, and makes a general sort of gesture that could mean fishing, or flying a kite, or could mean-- oh, no _way_.

Smithbauer's mouth drops open. "You want us to--" even _he_ stumbles, and he doesn't seem like someone who's that unfamiliar with the concept. "--to make out."

Gordon nods approvingly. "Very perceptive."

Callum growls. He doesn't know where the sound comes from, but it scares even him. "We're all armed," he points out, once he's got control of his voicebox back. "What makes you think you can force us to fuck? Christ, I don't believe this. I just don't--PAUL!!"

He turns to the door and starts hammering on it.

"Won't do you any good," Gordon says in his ear. "Ben's otherwise occupied, I'm afraid."

"Doing _what_?" says Callum, exasperated beyond belief.

"Fighting off the pirates." Gordon looks suddenly grim, and sure enough, in the distance Callum can hear shouts and explosions, and the sound of gunfire. It sounds a long way off, like a TV show two cabins away. Gordon clears his throat again. "Now, make your choice."

Callum eyes Smithbauer, the guns, and the old Mountie, who may or may not be Gordon Pinsent, and may or may not actually be a fictional character's fictional dead father. The cabin seems like support for the latter theory. Callum reaches the only logical conclusion. "I'm dreaming," he says. He brandishes his pistol at Smithbauer, who eyes it warily. "And, see, even in my _dream_ I need to be forced at gunpoint to make out with you."

Smithbauer shrugs like he doesn't give a shit either way. Fair enough.

"By people who don't exist twice over," adds Callum. "But maybe you only exist in my dream, and hey, if it's a dream, what does it matter? I'd rather get laid than get shot."

Smithbauer rolls his eyes, and turns to Gordon, and asks the most sensible question Callum's heard all day. "Why are you doing this?"

Gordon looks embarrassed. "Can't have the two of you fighting over my son," he says. "And he cares about the both of you. That's no way to get grandchildren. It's my duty, as your elder and better, to intervene. So either one of you murders the other, in which case Ben'll never speak to the victor again, or I get you two distracted with each other, in which case some sturdy young woman will no doubt come along and console him." He nods determinedly. "It's a foolproof plan."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," says Smithbauer.

Callum looks at him. In the lamplight he looks pretty good, and at least he's talking sense. And sure, the setup is twisted, but dreams are like that sometimes. This has to be a dream, right? "Okay," he says.

"What!?" says Smithbauer.

Callum narrows his eyes at the big lunk. "Can we just skip all this expository dialogue, and cut to the action? You want to get shot or laid? It's that simple. I'll tell you which one I'm gunning for."

Smithbauer considers the matter for a second, then puts his pistol down.

Gordon gestures with his rifle.

Callum puts his pistol next to Smithbauer's. "So, um, do you _have_ to watch?" he asks Gordon.

The atmosphere gets suddenly tense, and Gordon looks from Smithbauer to Callum and back again. He hesitates. "Well, since you're both men of your word, I suppose not." He looks intensely relieved at his own verdict. He opens a door Callum hadn't noticed before, and a blast of freezing cold air sweeps in and makes Callum shiver. "I'll see you later then." Gordon backs awkwardly towards the door, then pulls it shut after him and is gone.

Smithbauer and Callum look at each other.

"So," says Callum.

"So, I guess we don't have to," says Smithbauer. "Now he's gone."

"I guess," Callum agrees. The lamplight really does make Smithbauer look pretty good. "What the hell," says Callum.

"What?"

"I mean, it's a dream, right?"

"I'm starting to wonder that myself. What about Ben?"

"Ben who?" says Callum, and walks right up to Smithbauer, gets in his space. "What about Hugh?" he corrects Smithbauer. "That's what you should be saying."

He leans in really close, till his lips are barely an inch from Smithbauer's.

Smithbauer doesn't budge. "Hugh who?" he says. He rests a heavy hand on Callum's hip.

Callum smiles a tiny smile of satisfaction. "Exactly."

In the distance the pirate battle rages on.


End file.
